by Lexy Timms
I realized it wouldn’t be good enough to blame any unprofessionalism on our desire for each other. We were both mature adults who had steady, successful careers. No matter how much I wanted Kayla, I knew I could control myself around her. The problem was, I didn’t want to control myself.
My mind was spinning with concern. As if he could sense my desperate need for a distraction, I received a phone call from Grant. I picked up quickly, already predicting what his call was going to be about. He called me over the past several Saturday nights for the same reason:
“You, me, golf, tomorrow morning,” Grant pitched with obvious excitement. “Not super early, because your boy’s going out to score with some beautiful-ass hoes tonight.”
“Those are the hoes you want,” I laughed.
“But, we can’t go in the afternoon or later, because that’s when all the old folks start showing up and fucking up the green,” he continued. “Sunday crowds, you know what I’m saying? 10:15, 10:30ish- what do you say?”
I wasn’t much of a golfer (and I certainly never watched golf on television), but I wanted to hang out with him and get out of my apartment for a while. I felt like the further I got away from Kayla’s pictures, the better off I would be.
Silence fell all around us. Gracefully and with precision, Grant whacked his ball off the tee, landing it just ten meters or so away from the hole.
“Holy fuck,” I muttered.
“I know, right!?” he shouted proudly. “Man, it’s a good thing you aren’t making the big bucks yet, otherwise we’d be betting all morning and I would clean out your pockets faster than you could say, ‘Two below par.’”
“Hey man, I told you I wasn’t an expert,” I said, slightly offended. “And, I was only two under par on that last hole. I’m doing okay for an amateur.”
“Yeah,” he snorted. “You’re…”
He considered his words, playing with his putter while I set my ball on the tee and looked over my choice of clubs.
“Actually, no- you actually said it correctly,” he said. “You’re okay for an amateur. I agree. You’re the most satisfactory amateur I think this course has ever seen.”
“I guarantee you, I’ve been playing better than that fossil in front of us,” I mumbled. I didn’t want to be rude or cruel, but the man in front of us had been taking his time, generally missed on the first few swings, and appeared to be lost at certain points of his game, although I chocked that up to his advanced age.
“Okay, but a monkey playing with a club shoved up its ass could hit the ball better than the old man up there,” said Grant. “That’s who you’re going to compare yourself to?”
“Maybe I’ll play a game against that monkey,” I chided.
I didn’t want to take my time, because I knew there was no way I could get the ball anywhere as close to the hole as Grant did. I picked up the driver club and prepared to whack the ball into oblivion.
“You don’t think you want the iron, instead?” Grant asked.
“I think I want to move the game along,” I grumbled.
“I got four hours of sleep last night and I’m nursing a killer hangover,” he said. I noted the dark sunglasses that he was wearing. “Why are you so crabby this morning, Justin? Did you go out last night and try to get lucky?”
“Nah, I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” I said.
I hit the ball, shooting it forward past the hole and flag, zipping past Grant’s ball and colliding with a tree somewhere.
“That’s why you shouldn’t have used the driver,” he said patting my back.
“I think the potential for disaster would have been there no matter what club I chose, Grant,” I said. “I’m just waiting for drinks back at the clubhouse.”
We collected our bags and made our way toward the fourth hole.
“So, how did your shoot go the other day? With all the models?” he asked.
“Not too bad,” I replied. “In fact, I actually got an email on my way here… Donnie T. wants to set up another photoshoot, since they loved the first round of photos so much.”
“Wow man, good for you!” he said. “That’s what you want, right?”
“Oh, hell yeah dude,” I replied. “Yeah, the more work I get with Donnie T… the more work I could get from similar agencies or better. This is definitely a step in the right direction.”
“So, what was it like getting to shoot girls in an actual studio with a crew and everything?”
“Pretty similar to any other shoot, actually,” I answered. “They just have more space and a little more money.”
“You’re telling me the models weren’t hotter?” he asked, disappointment looming in his voice.
“The models were hot,” I assured him. “The models are always hot, that’s not an issue. Their crew was fine, though some of them were late. My lighting did well with the perimeters of the room. Uh… yeah.”
Grant still seemed deflated. “I thought the girls were going to be way hot.”
“I’m telling you they were!” I yelled. “Do you not believe me?”
“No, because it sounds like you didn’t hook up or mess around at all,” he said. “So, what the hell is there to talk about?”
I thought about the events during the photoshoot. I could only think of a few parts of that day that were worth mentioning to Grant and they all involved Kayla Reid…
“…Nothing, I guess,” I replied.
Grant hummed, staring straightforward in sadness. There was a large part of him that was hoping I would have met some of the models for the shoot and invited them to hang out with us both. He felt the dream quickly slipping away.
“I still have some of the copies that weren’t good enough to submit,” I said, referencing photos of the models that had been taken but didn’t reflect what the company wanted. “Believe me, you could still hang them up on your wall and it would class up your place instantly.”
“Where are these so-called pictures?” Grant asked.
“Back at my place and they’re all yours if you want them,” I offered.
Grant nodded, still sad but accepting. “Cool, sounds right.”
My mind was returning to that day in the dressing room with Kayla. I thought about how she looked in that dressing room and how we could have easily had sex that night. I couldn’t get her smooth pink vagina out of my head. I wanted to feel her sex rubbing against my face.
Grant was able to pick out the mischief in my quiet gaze. He raised an eyebrow.
“What’re you thinking about, Justin?” he wondered.
“Not much,” I said. “What about you, Grant? What’s on your mind?”
“I’m wondering why you’ve got that look,” he said. “The dangerous one.”
“What’s my ‘dangerous look’?” I asked perplexed.
“I can’t imitate it,” he said. “It’s the one where you look like you’re about to fuck, want to fuck, or have recently fucked some mad tail. Did I miss someone on the golf course? Did you see some of Tiger’s girlfriends?”
I chuckled, trying to choose my words carefully.
“It’s really nothing, we… something happened with me and…”
“Did you hook up with one of the models!?” he asked, nearly dropping his golf bag. “Please tell me you had sex with some of them. At least, one of them. Any of them.”
“Grant, man,” I said. “Seriously, it was nothing. It’s just sexy women. You know how I get when I see a really gorgeous woman.”
We made it to the hole. Grant took his putter and easily sank his ball into the hole, giving him a birdie.
“Killing it,” he muttered to himself.
“I don’t even know where my damn ball is,” I said tightening my jaw. I headed for the tree line where I saw it disappear, but I wasn’t sure of how far to go.
“Wait a minute!” Grant exclaimed. “What’s all this about really gorgeous women? Did you fuck one of the models or didn’t you?”
I grinned, choosing to leave the answ
er up to his imagination. I wasn’t ashamed that Kayla and I had sex, but I knew what Grant’s comments were going to be and how he was going to describe her. It wouldn’t be flattering and I wasn’t in the mood to listen to it. It wouldn’t matter how attractive I found her, he was going to attack her weight and attack me for not caring about her weight.
“I know the answer,” said Grant. “You can beat around the bush all you want, but I know. When you’re ready to talk, I want to know all about her.”
“Okay, Grant,” I chuckled. I found my golf ball resting against an old tree near the green. “I’m not getting the birdie, but that’s fine.”
“What do you expect?” he asked.
“Call me crazy, I think I’m going to make par,” I said bravely. “I’ll get out of this bogus and I’ll use my last whack to sink the ball. Third time’s the charm.”
“Right, because you wouldn’t want to get the ball in on the second swing,” said Grant, laughing to himself. “So, was she a brunette or a blonde?”
I laughed, giving in only a hair: “She’s blonde.”
“Nice,” he said. “And, since she was one of your models, I can assume you’ve got pictures of her back at your place?”
I regretted that his mind took him there, even though the logic was basic and sound. I thought about trying to easily explain how I had kept no pictures of the model that I hooked up with, but I knew he would find that even harder to believe than me actually having sex with a model.
“Yeah, a few,” I answered nonchalantly.
“So, can I come over and see some pictures of her or what?” he asked. “You got any on your phone?”
“No and no,” I said. “The photos that I take for clients aren’t meant to be shared with just anybody…”
“I thought I was your best friend,” he said with a dark look.
“You are,” I assured him. “But, you know what? I love my mom and I refuse to let her see any of the photos I take for other people, including the weddings.”
“Whoa, dude, that’s kind of cold,” he said. “You don’t need to shut out your mom like that. She’s trying to support your career, as am I, by looking over your photographs and giving you honest appraisals. I’m a great critic.”
“You’re both extraordinary critics, but I think I’m going to keep the identity of my model a secret,” I said firmly. “For now.”
I hit my golf ball out of the dirt and onto the green. I would proceed to get it in on the fourth swing. By the end of the game, Grant had achieved the impressive score of 48 while I had lost drastically with a 64. We decided to drink beer and play arcade games in the lounge until close to dark.
Once night fell, I returned to my apartment and closed myself back up in the darkroom, where I stared longingly of a picture of Kayla in her crafted underwear, posing with her firm, round ass up in the air. It was truly amazing to me how quickly blood rushed from my head to my penis. This wasn’t just a ferocious woman who blew away all in her path. In photos, she was art.
“Professional… Gotta keep it fucking professional…”
Chapter 10
Kayla
I was sitting across from my boss: “The boss.” He came in on Mondays sometimes, generally for quick, individual meetings with certain people (and not always people in high positions of power). Donnie seldom met with me. Generally, I didn’t think he even knew my name. But, this afternoon, he appeared to know my me and exactly what I did for the company.
We were in his office and he was consulting his computer screen a lot. I thought he may have been trying to make me nervous, but he was mostly coming across as ill prepared for our meeting.
“You’ve been doing a lot of great work here at the company lately, Kayla,” he said. “You’re a girl of action. When you see a problem, you go in and you fix it and it never negatively affects the work. You’re a doer, missy.”
“I try,” I said, trying to sound humble.
“We’re doing a shoot with Vicki Verelli this coming Saturday,” he said. “And, I would like you to take the lead on coordinating the shoot.”
“Wait,” I said, trying to contain my excitement. Vicki Verelli was a big name in modern fashion, her clothing and perfume lines were taking over all the major cities. You would see her name all over New York and Los Angeles. “We get to photograph our models with Vicki Verelli’s? Donnie, be serious.”
“I’m dead serious, missy,” he said.
“Hold crap, holy crap, holy crap,” I muttered.
“Vicki isn’t going to be there herself, you know,” he said with a judgmental look. “But yes, this is a big deal and you should be excited.”
“Oh I am, I absolutely am,” I said. I was visibly shaking with excitement. “Donnie, don’t joke with me right now. Are you serious, you really want me be lead coordinator for a shoot with Vicki Verelli?”
“Indeed, I do, darling,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you,” I said, holding back tears. “Donnie, thank you so much.”
“You’ve earned it,” he said. “You’re the only one that actually works around this fuckin’ place.”
I chuckled, neither consenting nor denying his claim. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but it wouldn’t have been professional for me to say so.
“Hey, what is it that you want to do around here, exactly?” he wondered. “You’ve been working here a couple of years and I still can’t get a sense about you. What’s your five-year plan? Or, do you have one?”
I shrugged. “I just want to be happy. And I’m happy working here.”
“We’re happy that you’re here. I recognize good work and I’m someone who actually appreciates it. I want to help you out, Kayla.”
I wasn’t sure which question to throw at him first. No question seemed like a good one in my head and so I just talked.
“Well… so… could you tell me what I’m… to expect at this prestigious shoot?”
“It’s a good shoot, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘prestigious,’” he said. “All you really need to know before you even start work that morning…? You’re not allowed to fuck up. You fuck up once and you’re gone.”
I exhaled, feeling like I got punched in the gut. I predicted that he was going to say something like that, but it was still not the kind of thing I wanted to hear.
“If Vicki’s girls talk shit, you talk shit right back to them,” he continued. “You keep our girls under control. There’s always drama at things like this and I’m not going to let it happen. We’re better than the rest, you hear me?”
“Understood,” I nodded.
Suddenly, his stare morphed into a softer gaze. He held his hands together, looking me over and biting his lip. I hadn’t seen him this way around me before.
“Kayla, has anyone around here told you that you could model?” he asked.
During ordinary times and circumstances, a question like that from my boss would have shocked me. Since I’d had sex with a photographer Donnie himself hired and who was the most attractive man I’d ever had inside me, I didn’t feel quite as surprised as I would have before.
“Someone told me that recently, as a matter of fact,” I replied.
“Perhaps it’s your intuitiveness, but I see something in you,” he said holding out his hands. “You may not be the size of a supermodel, but size doesn’t matter, really. It’s about presentation. Don’t you think you could present well and turn on a lot of people?”
“Uh…” I groaned. “What?”
Before he could elaborate, his office door opened. A remarkably skinny woman floated into the room. She was beautiful, had long dark brown hair and deep brown eyes, and she was tall. She had a mild case of resting-bitch-face syndrome, but I couldn’t fault her for that. It was a sickness that was too commonly spotted throughout the fashion and modeling industries.
“So sorry to bother you, Donnie,” the woman said in a Russian accent. “Do you have a minute?”
“Of course, Natalia, please!” he oblig
ed. “Kayla, this is Natalia Grotz, one of our new models that I signed personally last week. Natalia, Kayla is one of our top coordinators in the agency.”
“Charmed,” said Natalia, giving me a forced smile. “Were you… working on taxes? I’ve been told that I’ll need to file my taxes… quarterly?”
Donnie beamed at me. “Kayla, I’ll explain things to you about Saturday in an email. Thank you and keep up the good work.”
“Thank you, Donnie,” I said, scooting my chair out and turning to make my leave. Just as I reached for the door handle, Donnie said to Natalia as she was taking my seat:
“Natalia, don’t you think Kayla could be a model if she wanted?”
I stopped in my tracks, finally shocked. I didn’t expect a reprise so soon and definitely not around a new model who I met literally thirty seconds ago.
“You’re very kind, Donnie,” I said rolling my eyes.
“No, I’m serious,” he persisted. “Natalia, when you look at Kayla, don’t you see an absolutely breathtaking individual? Someone people would want to see?”
She turned her head to face me. Her forced smile had contorted into a real smile, only it was one laced with contempt and malice. She was clearly thinking of insults and amusing herself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time I had to put up with things like that. It just wasn’t generally at the behest of my boss.
“I suppose some might think she’s pretty,” said Natalia.
“She’s gorgeous!” said Donnie. “I’m being serious. Kayla has that… thing… the indescribable thing that separates the regular from the powerful.”
“Really?” Natalia blurted out in disbelief. “Powerful? Gorgeous?”
She bit her tongue and kept shifting her eyes between Donnie and me in disbelief.
“I’m sure she could model somewhere,” Natalia mumbled. “But, if you’re asking can she model here? No, I’m sorry. I don’t think so, no. No.”
“Okay, we got it,” I said irately. “See, Donnie? Like I said, you’re crazy.”
